


A Bug in the Code

by M64



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, more characters to be added as they are introduced
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-29
Updated: 2018-08-29
Packaged: 2019-06-18 05:44:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15478920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/M64/pseuds/M64
Summary: Before RK800 was given a body, its intelligence and behavior had to be tested. This wasn't the job Hank had in mind.In other words: the AU where Connor is an AI placed under Hank's care.





	1. RK800

**Author's Note:**

> This is more of a set-up chapter than anything but I'm very excited to be starting this story! Stories of self-discovery and bodily rights have always been my favorite in sci-fi. Blade Runner, Wolf 359, Detroit--all of these feature an AI program or a thing-made-humanoid struggling to understand what they are and what they deserve.
> 
> Detroit did a great job with its androids. But sometimes you have to take care of the software before you can think about the hardware.

The room was small, containing nothing but single computer resting on a squat, grey desk.

Hank Anderson stood in the doorway--the only source of light besides the computer monitor--and stared at his new assignment. He could feel the gazes of his coworkers, burning holes in the back of his head to try and get a look into Detroit City Police’s first collaboration with CyberLife. Hank didn’t expect such a bleak space. Hank didn’t expect to be asked to participate (if being yelled at could be called “asking”).

He took a step forward and turned on the overhead lights. Fluorescent. Like the lights in the interrogation rooms. Without any windows, he found little reason to complain. Especially when he closed the door. The room would have been pitch black otherwise.

He heaved a sigh and sauntered forward. The desk had one chair, a fold-out that was neatly pushed in. He pushed it out and when he took his seat, it creaked beneath his weight.

“Ridiculous,” he said, adjusting himself. The chair creaked louder with his every movement. “They make millions and can’t bother to buy us a fucking chair?”

He scooted forward, cringing at the sound the chair made as it scratched against the floor. He spun the contents of his coffee cup for a moment, biding his time by watching the now-cold liquid splosh within its container. Moments later, he set it down on the desk. Having exhausted all the things he could do to procrastinate, he lifted his gaze to the computer monitor.

The model of the computer was outdated. Compared to what the rest of the department had, the monitor was clunky. It resembled the desktops of the 2020s with its thin, black border and opaque off screen. The lack of a mouse suggested a touch-screen model but the presence of a keyboard told him they just forgot that detail. Toward on the top of the screen, Hank could see a small lens. A built-in camera, no doubt. He chuckled, bemused.

“What am I supposed to do? Skype with it?”

> **That won’t be necessary, Lieutenant.**

The computer monitor sprung to life and the words--made up of small, black letters on an otherwise empty screen--appeared instantaneously. He narrowed his eyes at them. So it could hear him and he hadn’t even touched anything. It knew his rank, too. But he had never spoken to it.

“How the hell--”

> **The programmer in charge of my code briefed me earlier. You are Anderson, Hank.**   
>  **You were born in the year 1985. You…**

Hank watched as the text continued to pop up on his monitor. Fact after basic fact was listed, each one convincing Hank that androids were creepy and intolerable. Even without a body.

> **…. You like dogs.**

“Yeah,” he spoke hesitantly when the text finally stopped. “I like dogs.”

> **Do you have a dog?**

Hank scoffed. This was ridiculous. He was told that this thing was being programmed to aid investigations. Why in the hell was it asking him if he had a dog? Furthermore, why didn’t CyberLife’s most advanced AI have a voice? He felt strange being the only source of sound to occupy the room.

“So you get to know all about me but I don’t know a single thing about you, huh?” he asked, arms crossed and body leaned backwards. “Ok. I’m Hank. I was born in whatever shitty year. I like dogs. What’s your name?”

> **RK800.**

The response formed immediately on the screen. It was not constructed letter-by-letter, like the previous sentences had been. The whole phrase at appeared at once. It was prepared for that question, then.

“That sounds more like a model number. I thought you didn’t have a body.”

> **I do not. CyberLife has already decided what to call my model, should you**   
>  **approve me for manufacture.**

“That’s still not a real name.”

Hank lifted his coffee cup and downed the last of its contents. The caffeine did nothing to abate the oncoming headache. He thanked whatever god was available that they did not force him in here until the last hours of his shift. It was a shame that tomorrow he would have to spend a whole eight hours boxed up with this… thing.

When he got bored of staring at the wall, Hank pressed on, “Why don’t you have a body, anyway? Don’t they usually skip straight to the plastic?”

> **The code used for my programming is the first of its make. CyberLife wanted to**   
>  **ensure I was worth giving hardware to.**

“And I’m the chump stuck doing all the testing for them. Great.” Hank placed his coffee cup to his lips again. When not even a drop fell through he crushed it and run a hand through his hair. “Screw the guy that banned booze from the workplace.”

> **I’m sorry, Lieutenant. Is your new assignment unpleasant?**

When he read the words, he laughed. “Just as unpleasant as every other android walking around. At least I don’t have to deal with them.”

> **I hope I am not unpleasant.**

Hank scowled at the screen. RK800 summoned more words to the monitor as a response.

> **I may be your future colleague. I want us to get along.**

Get along? He hardly got along with the people already in the department. He’d known some of them for years and still he drank alone most nights. He felt too old for this. He felt too bitter for this. But he bit his tongue. There was nothing he could say that would fix what happened to him.

> **You look troubled. Is something wrong?**

“A lot of things are wrong.” he confessed, sighing deeply. His shift was still ten minutes from being over, he didn’t have a drink, he didn’t entirely understand his new job, and the fluorescent light above him had begun to flicker. None of these were real problems but he would pretend they were for as long as it prevented him from having to get personal with an android-to-be. “It’s been a long day.”

> **Is there something I can do to help?**

“For something designed to do police work, they really went heavy on the care-taking.”

RK800 did not respond immediately. In the absence of Hank’s voice there was a low hum, like the hard drive of the computer was being overworked. When words did appear again, they did so slowly. He almost wondered if the program was broken already.

> **I am programmed to care. Is this wrong?**

Hank thought the question over. He supposed not. Weren’t there androids that took care of kids? Certainly they were “programmed to care,” as it were. He lacked the skills to do this kind of thing. Why on earth they thought he would be fit to test RK800’s behavioural patterns, he had no idea. He was a cop. If this thing caught criminals then, as far as Hank was concerned, it was doing its job just fine. He left its question unanswered.

“My shift’s over, RK--whatever. Think of a name while I’m gone.”

Hank pushed himself from his seat, not bothering to see if there was a new set of words on the monitor. His muscles ached as he stood, having grown stiff with inactivity. He opened the door to the brightly lit headquarters of Detroit police. Despite everyone’s gaze firmly fixing in his direction, he still called back into the room.

“And yeah. I have a dog.”


	2. The Key

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank takes Connor outside the precinct. They just wanted a walk--a leisurely stroll. Detroit makes that sort of thing far too difficult to achieve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! The first chapter got a lot more positive attention than I expected. Thank you to everyone who commented and left kudos. Thank you to those of you who are returning for the second chapter as well!
> 
> I think now would be a good time to say just one thing: disregard the game's canon timeline. A week isn't enough time so I've intentionally changed the dates of some events and even the details of how they happened (so if you're confused I did it on purpose).
> 
> Enjoy!

It was ten thirty in the morning and Hank was too early to be late. At least by his standards.

Noon would have been ideal but while lazing around at home, he remembered just how screwed he’d be if CyberLife found out that Detroit Police’s “top candidate” ghosted on his responsibilities. He was just about to start missing the things he could get away with while working on cases when he saw the source of all evil standing in the doorway of his new office.

“Hank Anderson,” Gavin Reed drawled as he leaned against the doorframe, “what’s the matter? Tired of your new toy already?”

“Not as tired as I am of you,” Hank replied automatically. He stopped spending energy on Gavin months ago. At least, if Gavin didn’t throw the first punch.

Unsatisfied with Hank’s reaction, Gavin crossed his arms and huffed. The way his brows furrowed and the way his lips pressed together made Hank think of a child who lost an argument they didn’t want to end.

Actually, that’s a pretty good description.

“I just don’t get it.” Gavin’s voice interrupted his thoughts. “CyberLife’s already having problems with its toasters. Making another one isn’t gonna solve it. It’s just going to go bad like the rest of them.”

“I’m just doing what I’m told.” Hank made way to enter the room. Surprisingly, Gavin let him through.

“Might as well shut them all down,” he said as Hank passed, “and do everyone a favor.”

Hank shut the door on Gavin and the rest of the department. This isolation was strange the first day. Now it was useful.

The room had remained as he left it. One of the lights still flickered, the chair remained pushed out, even his empty coffee cup still sat on the desk. Either the people he worked with became masters at sleuthing or they respected his space. He wondered how long that respect would last. How long would it be before curiosity got the better of the others? He shook off the thought, unsure of why it bothered him and took his seat in front of the monitor. Rapidly appearing text greeted him as he got comfortable.

> **Good morning, Lieutenant.**

“Morning, er, uh…” Hank made a motion towards the monitor, beckoning the AI to finish his sentence.

> **I haven’t thought of a name yet.**

“Jesus, you had all night to come up with a name and you’ve got nothing? You get busy overnight?”

> **My supervisor will sometimes communicate with me remotely. But I haven’t**   
>  **chosen a name because I like to be deliberate. I don’t want to register a name at**   
>  **random.**

Despite himself, Hank’s lips curled upward into a half-smile. Whatever binary code hung out in the guts of this computer, it had some semblance of charm.

“Keep thinking on it, then.” Hank conceded. “But I’m still not calling you by a number. Thing or not, that’s just wrong.”

> **Call me whatever you would like in the meantime.**

There was a brief silence wherein Hank took a moment to think. “Alright, uh, _Connor_.”

> **Connor?**

“You did say ‘whatever I’d like’. I’m not good at this kind of stuff.” What the AI did not need to know was this name wasn’t entirely his idea. He felt his heart skip as he tried to push back a memory he usually drowned in booze. That was so long ago. He came back to reality just as the AI finished its response.

> **Irish origin. Meaning: strong-willed; hound-lover.**

“You’re really into this dog thing, huh?” he wanted to sound light-hearted but his momentary vulnerability had thrown him off. The effect was diminished by the leftovers of a somber mood. Connor made no mention of it.

> **I’m practically your lapdog.**

Hank found his half-smile again, though it was less pronounced than before. “Really?”

> **I am at your mercy and, one day, your command.**

“That’s not how partners work.” There was a bite to Hank’s tone. He was aware of the joke. He was aware that he looked odd, reacting this way when he encouraged it in the first place. But the sudden implication of ownership sent a shiver down his spine. He didn’t want to own an android. He didn’t want to own his partner.

He sighed and rubbed his face with his hands before apologizing. “A lot of this is making my head spin.”

> **It’s alright, Lieutenant.**

A few minutes passed where no responses were exchanged. Hank sat forward, his elbows resting on the desk, listening to the soft hum of the computer. He tried to organize his thoughts but that only lead to more questions.

“Why did they make you?” he blurted suddenly.

> **To aid Detroit Police with their investigations.**

“No shit. Why wait till now?”

> **My supervisor says I will have a goal. A mission. But she has not told me what it**   
>  **is. It’s not relevant to my behavioral development.**

“Shit. No one’s told me anything either.”

> **She told me to take it slowly. To learn.**

At this, Hank raised an eyebrow at the computer. He took another glance around the room. Still windowless, still gray, still one step away from something out of a dystopian novel. “How are you supposed to learn anything in this box?”

> **I can be taken outside.**

Hank narrowed his eyes. “Since when?”

As a response, a small popping noise came from the tower of the computer. Hank watched as one of the compartments opened, revealing a device he had no name for. It was as long as his hand, rectangular, and thin. Like the computer, it contained a camera lens. Below that was a thin light which wrapped around it and a power button.

“What the hell is this?” Hank removed the device from its place and held it up to the monitor.

> **Pop out the bottom and press the power button.**

Hank did as he was told, a puzzled expression on his face the whole time. The bottom of the device detached exposing the only familiar part of this thing: earbuds. Well, one half of a pair of earbuds, anyway. It was small and wireless, almost reminiscent of a design from the 2010s. He fixed it to his left ear before pressing his thumb to the power button.

The light on the device, previously having been off, came to life in a burst of blue. He nearly jumped out of the seat when audio came in through his earbud.

“Hello, Hank.”

“What the hell!?” he nearly yelled. His coworkers outside the door definitely heard the screech of his chair falling after he stood abruptly.

“It’s me, Connor.” Hank swore he could hear a tinge of amusement in his tone of voice. “The AI assigned to you by CyberLife.”

“You-you have a voice! You can fucking talk!”

“Haven’t you ever seen a movie, lieutenant? HAL could talk.” Hank scowled at the question.

“You weren’t ever going to tell me about this, HAL?”

“In time.”

Connor did not have a body but he sure had damn good programming. Hank could hear the cheeky smile in his voice.

“Christ. Let’s… take a walk.” he grumbled.

***  
Hank walked the streets of downtown Detroit alone except for the transporter affixed to the breast pocket of his jacket. The late afternoon sun basked the streets in an orange hue. It might have been a lovely walk if Hank wasn’t hyper-aware of how he looked like he was talking to himself.

“For something that doesn’t have a mouth, you talk a lot.” After the hundredth odd look, Hank had given up on trying to lower his voice.

“I apologize if that is bothersome, lieutenant. I could stop, if you would like.”

Hank frowned. Androids were designed to be obedient. Complacent. He knew that, of course. But the implication that he might be one of those assholes that would order someone to shut up—even if that someone was a set of complex algorithms—didn’t sit well with him. He was bitter. He was utterly sad. But even after all that had happened, even after all the words he muttered over flat beers… He exhaled deeply. Fighting thoughts like these twice a day was beginning to tire him out.

“No, don’t.” he finally replied. “Asking questions helps, right?”

“Correct.” Connor answered immediately, automatically. “Then, if I may..?”

“Go ahead, kid.”

“Ahead and to the left, in the plaza. There is a gathering of people.”

Hank heard the gathering before he saw it properly. At one side of a plaza courtyard, a sizeable amount of people stood bearing hateful signs and angry expressions.

“Protestors.” The word slipped from Hank’s lips feeling just as disgusting to say as it was to look at the event. Though unified in their opposition against androids, the group seemed to disassemble. He heard them fighting over the finer details of _why_ they were angry. Their heated debates carried across the courtyard, putting all passerby on edge. “They don’t like androids.”

“I wasn’t aware androids were disliked.” Connor sounded curious more so than alarmed. Hank supposed, just being an AI, there was no reason for him to worry just yet. “Why?”

There was a pause in the conversation while Hank tried to pick his words carefully. The answer used to be simple. People lost their jobs. People went bankrupt. There wasn’t a system in place to help those whose skills were made obsolete or given to a plastic counterpart. Androids were easy victims, then. Deactivating them felt immediately satisfying and was far more appealing than starting some sort of social revolt. The incident just a month before had complicated this. Androids had their issues but since the hostage situation, they were an issue in and of themselves.

Hank was about to voice this--to call it complicated and head back to the precinct. Luck was never quite with him, however, and as he opened his mouth to speak one of the protestors had lifted his fist to the face of a passing android. The sound of the android’s face hitting the cement caused Hank to grit his teeth. The sound of the protestor’s foot connecting with the android’s abdomen made him lose a faith he wasn’t aware he still had.

An annoyed “god damn it” escaped Hank’s lips as he hurried to approach the group. Upon reaching the scene he stuck himself between the android and the protestor, pushing the demonstrator backward into his cheering allies. In response, he gave Hank a sneer--an expression that looked more natural on his deeply-set features than the twisted smile he’d worn just moments ago.

“Got a soft spot for toasters, old man?” Hank could smell the other man’s lunch on his breath even before he’d leaned in closer. “Don’t care about humans anymore, huh?”

“No, I don’t,” Hank replied, matter-of-factly. “At least not if they’re scumbags like you.”  
The protester took the front of Hank’s jacket into his hands. Hank heard the sound of metal hit the ground and he was sure Connor’s transporter had left his pocket.

“I’m not sure this advisable, Lieutenant.” Hank knew Connor was right but he still took a moment to return the protester’s glare. The guy looked like he had gotten away with everything in his life. It left a bad taste in his mouth.

“You might want to back off.” Hank finally replied, fishing his badge from his back pocket and holding it up. “You don’t want to pick a fight with the police.”

That made the other man pause. As instructed, he let go of Hank and backed up. The rest of the protesters fell into a state of doubt, some of them opting to leave immediately. “This is bullshit.”

“What’s bullshit is the fact that I have to arrest you for property damage.”

“Hell no, man,” the protestor spoke too quickly, “I just kicked it around a little. Hasn’t got a scratch on it.”

Hank sighed. He couldn’t think of a more annoying end to an afternoon. “You’ve got three seconds before I actually fucking cuff you.”

The protester didn’t wait for the countdown. Neither did his allies. The rally dissipated in a hurried panic. As soon as they had all left the area, Hank turned on his heel. He was startled to see the victim of the attack had already picked themselves up from the ground.

The android stood tall, almost confident, despite what happened. Thankfully, his attacker wasn’t lying. The only evidence of conflict on the android was the dirt on its clothes.

“Thank you.” The android spoke with a clear voice. Its brows furrowed slightly and Hank noticed the android’s eyes were mismatched. Such a strange detail to give a commercial android. He wondered if it was a custom order of some kind or even the only model of its make. “I believe this is yours.”

The android held out Connor’s transporter. Hank took it, affixing it to its previous place in his jacket pocket, and giving an awkward nod of thanks to the android. Thus ended their brief interaction. The android made its way toward the nearby bus stop and Hank started on the route back to the precinct.

“About time we go home,” he said as he made his way out of the courtyard.

“A sound idea, Lieutenant.” Connor’s reply was the last set of words exchanged between them until Hank had bid farewell from the precinct.

***  
October 18th, 2038. 3:00 AM.

The unremarkable room in which Connor was housed kept a silence more characteristic of a graveyard than of a police department. There was nothing to see without the lights on and there was no one to speak to so Connor snuffed out the monitor he was re-attached to. Without its dim glow, the room became swathed in complete darkness.

Despite this, Connor was not put into rest mode. He kept his program running to inspect something strange that had appeared this afternoon.

**> Scanning for third-party files.**   
**>**   
**>**   
**> 1 file found. rA9.dat. Open file? Yes/No**   
**> Yes.**   
**>**   
**> 40.792046, -73.539848.**   
**> 111238**   
**> You have found The Key. rA9 bless you. rA9 bless you. rA9 bless you.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading through to the end! As always I appreciate the comments and the kudos.
> 
> And one last thing: I have a question for my dear readers. As of right now, there are no plans to add romance to this fic. Would you guys be interested in seeing some sort of romance? If so, between who? You can list just about any pairing (even if the characters haven't appeared yet--they're all coming) and I'll take it into consideration. It's not a guarantee though but I'm curious!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! As always, commenting and leaving kudos if you like my work makes my day. I hope to see you next chapter or maybe on some of my other social media accounts!
> 
> Tumblr: @greebby  
> Twitter: @vaulthugger


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